December 2011
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you are born once with a stone-heart reprieve. rebirth in flesh is death in life. knowing what you know is freedom, but the weight of knowledge is a heavy burden, steeping you in the remorse of the present: unbridled and unwilling to change. for one thing to live, another must die: this is the motion of life. it is unforgiving. it takes what it wants in whatever form fits it best; a mercenary of...
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i’m not serious, but i’m serious wish i could tell you and save some time. peeling off the petals, stark bereft and left hollow inside. interesting how you have a moment, known— spread before you like a feast dead as a pig, gutted and ready to be free— but do nothing.
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